


heard the streets are gold there

by laurenswriting



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: (but not if you read the end note), (sharing a bed but no spicy stuff), Accidental Cuddling, Airport Kisses, Airports, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sharing a Bed, but also non-accidental cuddling, but so is eliott, lucas is dramatic, study abroad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 03:08:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19242592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurenswriting/pseuds/laurenswriting
Summary: he can pass it off as a half-awake mistake later (the lie will set his vocal cords aflame).or: lucas and eliott meet at the start of their semester abroad. one weekend, lucas invites eliott to join him in paris while visiting his cousin. unlike the hostels they usually stay in, his cousin's guest room only has one bed.





	heard the streets are gold there

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this instead of working on _you just float through_ (sorry??) 
> 
> title taken from "wake up" by EDEN (his music just inspires me endlessly, so if you haven't checked him out yet, please please do!!) 
> 
> un-beta'd, all mistakes are mine 
> 
> hope you enjoy ♥

lucas rings the doorbell, glancing down at his phone to check the address once more. he hasn’t been in paris since he was a child, and back then he had his mother to guide him around the city they once called home.

“lucas?” sophie says his name the right way, the french way, and lucas feels at home. the door opens to reveal a head of chestnut hair, his cousin already pulling lucas into a tight hug. “it’s been too long,” sophie breathes, swaying them back and forth. she’s a few years older than lucas, but the two were always thrown together at the kids’ table during family parties. they’ve remained close despite his family’s move to the states, and lucas is grateful.

“it’s good to see you again, sophie,” he says, stepping back to make room in front of the door. “this is my friend, eliott.”

(and friend is a relative term, really. because there’s not really a word for _the boy i’ve been hopelessly pining after all semester but he lives on the other side of the country and i’ll never see him again after our program is over._ and there’s not really a word for _the boy who i nearly kissed two weeks ago while walking through amsterdam and as much as i want to feel his lips on mine, i just can’t get into a relationship with a pre-determined deadline.)_

but if eliott has any objections to the title, he doesn’t show it as he steps past lucas to shake the girl’s hand. “thank you so much for letting me come along. i really appreciate it.”

“oh, don’t mention it. i’m just happy you two could visit! i’ve been telling lucas to come to paris all semester,” sophie answers with a smirk, throwing a wink lucas’ way. “come in, let me show you to the guest room.”

they follow her inside, kicking off their shoes in the entryway and entering the small apartment. sophie leads them down a short hallway and opens the door to the guest room.

pale walls, artwork hanging above the dresser, and a single queen-sized bed at the center of the room.

lucas panics.

“you’re okay with sharing the bed, guys? there’s always the living room couch…” sophie trails off, glancing between the two boys. lucas opens his mouth to speak, to offer himself up to the living room, to let eliott sleep in the guest room _alone_ , but the other boy cuts him off before anything can be said.

“no, we’ll be fine here,” eliott replies, strong and confident, a stark contrast to lucas’ shaky fingers and fluttering eyelashes. “thank you again, sophie.”

“of course, eliott.” her voice is warm, inviting, and but lucas can hear the questions buried beneath it all: _who is this boy?_ and _friends, lucas?_ and _you’re telling me everything later, okay?_

“i’ll give you some time to settle in and then we’ll head out, yeah?” the boys nod and the door shuts behind her and they are left alone in the room, the parisian sun streaming through the window.

“i’ll, uh, i’ll take this side,” lucas mutters, walking around to the left of the bed. he plugs his phone into its charger and throws his bag onto the floor, pulling out a change of clothes. the plane from london was sticky and stuffy despite the chilly november air, and lucas practically runs into the ensuite bathroom to take a shower when he sees eliott open his mouth, not letting the boy say whatever’s on his mind.

 _calm down, lucas,_ he thinks as he turns on the water. _it’s two nights; stay on your side and nothing will happen_. he works the reassurances into his mind with shampoo-covered hands and when he leaves the bathroom, hair wet and dripping onto his fresh t-shirt, eliott is sitting on the bed, waiting for him.

“you’re okay with staying in here, right?” eliott’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and lucas is so focused on the movement that he nearly forgets to answer.

“yeah, of-of course,” he stammers. “why wouldn’t i be?” he avoids eliott’s eyes as he walks back over to his side of the bed, stuffing his dirty clothes into his bag and unplugging his phone. eliott is burning two holes into the top of lucas’ head but he refuses to let his emotions spill through.

“i’m gonna go catch up with sophie, but take your time, okay?”

“oh, i’m good to go.” lucas’ head whips up. eliott’s already walking past him, brushing their shoulders together as he passes.

lucas nods, dazed, and follows eliott out of the room.

“all ready?” sophie asks, too cheery, too bright. eliott responds with the same lightness. lucas' jaw is clenched tight.

they explore the city with sophie, thankful to have a guide through paris’ twisted streets. the day is full of art galleries for eliott and record stores for lucas and a seemingly endless amount of pastries from sophie’s favorite cafés.

it’s a good day, a _beautiful day_ , even, and lucas wants to drag it out for hours.

because when night falls, lucas and eliott will be stuck in sophie’s guest room on opposite ends of a queen-sized mattress.

later, when lucas slides under the covers, he puts as much distance between himself and eliott as he possibly can.

“goodnight, lucas.”

“goodnight, eliott.”

he doesn’t sleep.

the air is crackling between them but lucas is frozen solid, stiff as a board and staring at the ceiling, wide awake with fear and longing.

eliott is free, though, gangly limbs stretching across the bed in his sleep, reaching out, searching. lucas wants to lean into eliott’s curious touch. he wants to scoot towards the center of the mattress and let eliott’s arms wrap around his body and pull him to his chest but.

lucas thinks of suitcases and calendars and plane tickets sending them in opposite directions and it’s too much too much too much.

so he settles on turning onto his side instead, settles on _you can look but you can’t touch_ and he lets his gaze track the smooth skin of eliott’s cheek as his eyelids slide shut to the beat of the boy’s easy breath.

the next morning, lucas wakes up nose to nose with eliott. a lean arm is thrown over his waist and he takes too long of a moment to savor the feeling because before he can pull back onto his side of the bed, eliott’s eyes are blinking open.

(his irises look like thunderstorms in the crisp morning light.)

“good morning,” lucas squeaks out, ready to run out of the room.

he starts to draw back but eliott leans forward to chase him, brushing their noses together, and he mutters a low, “it is,” before connecting his gaze with lucas’.

the wind gets knocked out of him when their eyes meet, and lucas can barely catch his breath to speak.

“w-we should get up,” lucas chokes out. “sophie will have breakfast ready soon.”

the arm around his waist tightens, bringing him ever closer, and something inside lucas crumbles.

“if we must.”

eliott knocks their foreheads together then slides out of bed, bunching up the sheets as he goes, and lucas is left reeling.

he can’t focus on his breakfast and when sophie says that she got called in for a shift at work, that she can’t join them as they explore today, lucas barely registers the fact that he’ll be spending the day alone with eliott. _shit._

eliott goes about their day like normal, playful and teasing as always, painting the perfect picture of two friends having the time of their lives while traveling together, but lucas can’t shake the feeling from that morning. it lingers, following him through museums and churches and gardens, sinking into his bones and staining every photograph he takes.

every look from eliott is charged with something new, something fragile: it’s exhausting and exhilarating and lucas wants it to last forever.

every caught glance, every accidental brush of fingertips while surveying their city map brings them closer to the end, whatever that may be. lucas wants to run to it, dash to the finish line and discover what lies ahead, but the fear of being thrown off a cliff by his own desire to fly holds him back.

and later, when they settle into opposite sides of the bed for their final night in paris, eliott breaks their moonlit silence with a, “why are you all the way over there?” and. well. lucas is helpless to do anything but turn over and cuddle himself into the circle of eliott’s waiting arms. it’s warm and it’s safe, sleep washing over him almost instantly.

it’s the easiest sleep lucas has had in months and he wishes it wasn’t a one-time thing.

in the morning, with the sunlight warming their bare, tangled legs, lucas feels eliott’s deft fingers sweeping through his hair and he feels chapped lips pressing against his forehead and before he can register what he’s doing, lucas brushes a hint of a kiss on eliott’s chest, right where his tattoo rests underneath the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt.

he can pass it off as a half-awake mistake later (the lie will set his vocal cords aflame).

eliott sighs beneath him, lucas’ head rising and falling with the movement.

“i don’t want to get up yet,” eliott mumbles, voice thick with sleep. lucas gulps, snuggles closer.

their flight isn’t until this afternoon. lucas is feeling brave.

“then let’s stay here.”

* * *

 

they fly back to london and they don’t speak of it again.

they don’t travel anywhere else, too preoccupied with exams and soaking up as much of the city as possible before they have to leave. lucas is careful to not let the other boy distract him as he studies. eliott’s mindless touches, which have always knocked lucas off his feet, are charged with lightning now, sparking his nervous system to life and sending his brain through a tornado.

(he knows what it’s like to wake up with those arms around him. he knows what it's like to be pulled out of his slumber by the scrape of eliott's fingernails tracing patterns on his skin. he knows and he wants and it's killing him.)

two weeks later, after they’ve finished their finals and their dorm rooms are all packed up, lucas slides his suitcase into the trunk of the airport taxi, right next to eliott’s own. (his luggage is grey but eliott’s is blue and lucas thinks there’s something symbolic there but he can’t dwell on it right now.)

the airport is starting to fill up by the time they arrive, but they find their flight easily: london to boston, 8:27am, gate 24.

they arrive early enough to find neighboring seats in the gate’s waiting area, and they sit down next to each other, elbows knocking together on the armrest, sending shockwaves through lucas. eliott pulls out his sketchbook and lucas wants to look, wants to dive into whatever’s on eliott’s mind, but he holds back, reaching into his backpack for a book to read.

when their flight is called, lucas rushes to get his things together and when he closes his bag, eliott is already standing, hand outstretched to lucas. he takes the waiting palm, and thinks _this is it._ courage and want slip through his veins and lucas goes to intertwine their fingers, but eliott is drawing his hand away.

and then there’s the weight of eliott’s arm draping around lucas’ shoulders and eliott’s hip bumps into his and lucas decides that this is better. so much better.

they wait in line to board their plane, settling into their assigned seats as the aircraft fills up. lucas tries to sleep as they cross the atlantic but he can’t bring himself to waste a second in eliott’s presence (even if the boy is five rows away).

a few hours later, the voice over the loudspeaker welcomes them to america, to boston. lucas feels only disappointment. this is where his journey ends but eliott still has a long way to go, another plane ticket tucked in his backpack to bring him home to california, three thousand miles away.

lucas gets off the plane in silence, weaving his way through the crowd of travelers, and when he stops outside the waiting area to pull out his phone and text his mother, a shadow falls over him.

“walk me to my next gate?”

lucas nods, pocketing his phone and falling into step beside eliott. rough knuckles brush against his own and fingers wrap themselves around his palm and lucas is holding eliott’s hand like it’s normal, like it’s natural. like they’ve been doing this for months.

they walk through the airport, passing by restaurants and bookstores and lucas almost wants to stop to buy a souvenir from his hometown, a souvenir to remember eliott demaury and the calluses along his palms.

“this is me,” eliott says, pulling lucas to a stop in front of a gate in the center of the terminal. they face each other, standing toe to toe under the fluorescent lights.

“i —” eliott begins, but lucas shakes his head.

he untangles his hands from eliott’s and wraps them around the boy’s shoulders instead, carding through the hair at the base of his neck and pulling eliott down to lucas’ parted lips.

their kiss is soft. it’s simple and chaste, not too much for the middle of a crowded airport during the holidays. but it’s also sad and happy and full of longing and regret and _relief_ and —

it’s kind of everything to lucas. (he hopes it’s kind of everything to eliott, too.)

they break away, panting, lips just a breath apart as they smile.

 _i’m in love with you_ , lucas wants to say. _i think i’ve been in love with you since i first saw you._

“get home safe, okay?” is what comes out instead, the words forcing themselves into the bustle of the terminal. there’s a storm in eliott’s eyes, something swirling beneath the surface, and lucas can’t look away. (he thinks eliott heard him, knows what he means, knows what he feels.)

“you too, lucas.” (he does.)

lucas presses up onto his toes, resting his forehead against eliott’s and closing his eyes, savoring the contact one last time. he steals another kiss, trailing his fingertips along eliott’s jawline, and he thinks about how lucky he is to have met this boy. out of the hundreds of programs, out of the thousands of universities around the world, they chose the same one at the same time and lucas thinks that this is his favorite universe.

“it’s not goodbye, okay?” eliott breathes as they break apart. he presses something into lucas’ palm, something thin and folded with sharp edges. “i’ll see you soon.”

lucas nods, reluctant to let his boy go, but eliott’s flight is called and he’s getting in line and he’s handing his boarding pass to the flight attendant and he’s turning back to look at lucas and.

something like fear is floating in eliott’s eyes, and lucas can see it from here, from this far away, so he sends the other boy a crooked, shaky smile, lifting his hand up for a weak wave. lucas hopes eliott doesn’t notice the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

eliott smiles and laughs but it's dimmer than normal, a sharp exhale paired with something that’s more of a sob than anything, and he holds lucas’ gaze until passengers start lining up behind him. they force him forward and eliott turns, walking through the short tunnel to the plane.

and then he’s gone.

once the boy is out of view, lucas uncurls his palm to reveal a piece of paper folded into a perfect triangle. he opens it up and feels something settle inside of him.

he looks at the sketch of a raccoon and a hedgehog snuggled together in bed, the eiffel tower peeking through the window above them. he looks at the phone number scribbled below.

lucas grins and tucks the drawing in his pocket, careful not to let it wrinkle as he exits the terminal.

he buys that souvenir, stops into a shop by baggage claim and gets a stupid, cheesy magnet that he knows eliott would love. so he buys two, one for him and one for eliott, and maybe lucas will give it to him one day.

**Author's Note:**

> later that night, when lucas is finally in his own bed after four months away, he sends a text to his newest contact. 
> 
> _i miss you._
> 
> the response is immediate. 
> 
> _i miss you, too._  
>  _you know, i've always wanted to see boston in the winter. do you know of anywhere i could stay?_
> 
> yeah, this is lucas' favorite universe. 
> 
> \-- 
> 
> kudos/comments are always welcome :))))
> 
> tumblr: [tawmlinsun](https://tawmlinsun.tumblr.com) // [ficpost](https://tawmlinsun.tumblr.com/post/185637984259/heard-the-streets-are-gold-there-he-can-pass-it)


End file.
